For last year’s words belong to last year’s language and next year’s words await another voice.
T. S. ELIOTThese fragments I have shored against my ruins
More T. S. Eliot Quotes
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Humankind cannot bear very much reality.
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Of lovers whose bodies smell of each other Who think the same thoughts without need of speech
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We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us and we drown.
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We don’t actually fear death, we fear that no one will notice our absence, that we will disappear without a trace.
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Most of the evil in this world is done by people with good intentions.
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I can connect Nothing with nothing
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Distracted from distraction by distraction
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Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.
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We read many books, because we cannot know enough people.
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There’s no vocabulary For love within a family, love that’s lived in But not looked at, love within the light of which All else is seen, the love within which All other love finds speech. This love is silent.
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Love is most nearly itself When here and now cease to matter.
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There is one who remembers the way to your door: Life you may evade, but Death you shall not.
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We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.
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What is hell? Hell is oneself. Hell is alone, the other figures in it Merely projections. There is nothing to escape from And nothing to escape to. One is always alone.
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We do not pass through the same door twice Or return to the door through which we did not pass.
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Sometimes things become possible if we want them bad enough.
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Unreal friendship may turn to real But real friendship, once ended, cannot be mended
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For I have known them all already, known them all—Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.
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You are the music while the music lasts.
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There is no feeling, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music.
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If you haven’t the strength to impose your own terms upon life, then you must accept the terms it offers you.
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To do the useful thing, to say the courageous thing, to contemplate the beautiful thing: that is enough for one man’s life.
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Only by acceptance of the past, can you alter it
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Every experience is a paradox in that it means to be absolute, and yet is relative; in that it somehow always goes beyond itself and yet never escapes itself.
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In my end is my beginning.
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The last act is the greatest treason. To do the right deed for the wrong reason.
T. S. ELIOT